


To Your Health

by EntreNous



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Cadets, Common Cold, Gen, Instructor Kirk, M/M, Old Married Couple, Secret Relationship, Soup, Starfleet, Starfleet Academy, Vulcan Culture, not so secret relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 17:05:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3818224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntreNous/pseuds/EntreNous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sneeze-y interruption to Admiral Kirk's lecture brings about a startling revelation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Your Health

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt [at my tumblr](http://entrenous88.tumblr.com) asking for Spirk (Old Married Spirk) + cadets at Starfleet realizing the two are married. For spockoandjimjim.

"And if you recall from your reading, the ethics involved in similar negotiations have inspired a wide variety of debates," Admiral Kirk instructed as he clicked his remote to change the image on the viewer at the front of the classroom. "For example --"

While around her others on the Starfleet command track took copious notes on Admiral Kirk's lecture, Cadet Mariette D'Orso hunched down in her back row seat in the packed hall, using her PADD to shield her flushed face. Never mind even trying to keep up with the nuanced message on the complicated applications of the Prime Directive Kirk was providing; she had to focus all her energy on suppressing the huge sneeze trying to escape her nose. 

The man sitting to Mariette's right gave her an alarmed look when he saw her try to hold her breath, as if imploring her not to disrupt the lesson. She bit her lip in a last attempt to stop it, but it was no good. At least she grabbed a hanky in time before letting out a half-stifled _wah-wah-wah-choo_!

There were a few snickers around her, but a large number of other cadets in the room gave her sympathetic looks. A portion of those, she noticed, had their own carefully stashed hankies or Kleenex tissues in the sleeves of their cadet uniforms.

"If you don't mind, we'll carry on without the sound effects," Admiral Kirk said mildly. But his warm eyes, as they flickered over to Mariette, seemed sharply focused on her. 

"Ob course," she said miserably. "Pleads condinue, Adbiral." 

He observed her one last time before he turned to address the lecture hall more generally. 

The man sitting next to Mariette let out a breath, obviously relieved the group wasn't going to be subject to extra readings or some other academic discipline from her commotion. 

Mariette went back to trying to sink down into her seat as much as possible while still maintaining some semblance of appropriate cadet posture. As Admiral Kirk's story of his own negotiations with the technologically advanced Hasseleah held all the other lecture attendees rapt, she swallowed repeatedly, desperately to try to assuage the irritating throat tickle that had been bothering her for days.

Luck continued to thumb its nose at her, though. Any good impression her earlier deference might have made was immediately and completely ruined by a fit of ignoble hacking. But she did her best to sit up straight in her seat as soon as she could possibly get her throat to stop closing up, and waved off her Andorian classmate in the row ahead of her (who was attempting to surreptitiously pass her a cough drop). 

"Cadet, D'Orso, you sound terrible," Admiral Kirk addressed her, interrupting his chronicle once again. 

"I'b really sorry, sir," she apologized. "Id's just dis code." To the handful of cadets in her immediate vicinity attempting to covertly lean away, she said crossly, "I'b dot condagious adybore; I probise."

As if in a fit of fellow feeling, or maybe just unable to hold it in any longer, suddenly some of Mariette's classmates began to demonstrate their own cold symptoms. A tall male cadet on the other side of the room visibly tried to suppress a sneeze and ended up squeaking; he accepted a hanky from a shorter, stockier cadet with a dignified sniff. In the front row, a female cadet began to cough repeatedly, prompting the person seated next to her to clap her across the back. 

"Hmmm. You _all_ sound terrible," Kirk told them, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the classroom. "What gives?"

"Almost everyone on campus has had this awful cold, or has it right now, Admiral," put in another cadet. 

"I see," Kirk replied, scanning the rows of seats filled with uncomfortably shifting cadets. Most Starfleet instructors did not take well to being disturbed when they were teaching, and now their class had been twice disrupted. Mini-epidemic of the common cold or not, it was almost inevitable they were about to be assigned an impossibly demanding essay or be subjected to a harsh quiz. 

"Well, there's nothing for it," Admiral Kirk sighed. A few people in the room visibly tensed, waiting for the inevitable reprimand. 

But instead Kirk turned to the viewer, changed the program mode, and began scribbling on a PADD with a stylus, his scrawled handwriting immediately appearing on the projected image. 

" _Plomeek Soup_?" the cadet sitting next to Mariette read the title to Kirk's image aloud incredulously.

"As the Chief Medical Officer of the Enterprise Doctor Leonard McCoy once said, mankind even today carries on not only its exploration of space, but its search for the cure for acute nasopharyngitis." Kirk looked up for a moment, and when Mariette caught his eye, he winked at her. "Until then, a tasty old-fashioned bowl of soup is as good a remedy as any other. Now, there are many variations of Plomeek Soup, as those of you interested in xenogastronomy are well aware," Kirk went on in a brisk voice.

He quickly listed out components such as onions ("Or leeks!" the note in parentheses said following that ingredient), celery, carrots ("try sweet potatoes or even beets!" read the side comment following that one). 

"Of course you can increase the amounts of garlic, and add a touch of ginger to help with a stuffy head or nose. You can even put in a few drops of hot sauce, though you shouldn't douse it the way I see some of you doing with that sriracha sauce in the cafeteria; that just defeats the purpose of Plomeek Soup entirely. I really do recommend it for alleviating some of those cold symptoms."

"Doesn't Plomeek Soup have chicken broth, sir?" one cadet asked, busy jotting down notes on his PADD. 

"Oh yes, I did forget to list broth," Kirk muttered as if to himself while he added it to the ingredients. "It seems like a given if we're talking about soup, but yes, certainly. Start with four cups, depending on how many vegetables you're using."

"Um, Vulcans are vegetarians, so definitely not _chicken_ broth," the cadet who had earlier squeak-sneezed corrected his peer. 

Kirk raised an eyebrow at the cadet who had spoken last, and Mariette frowned. The expression looked so familiar; it just wasn't one she remembered seeing Kirk make before.

"As Cadet Jameson just pointed out, to create a true Vulcan Plomeek Soup or broth, you wouldn't add animal products at all. But again, variations abound. Obviously those of you who aren't vegetarians can try chicken broth. You could even add a dash of cream," he continued, flashing a grin (a wave of titters went through the room, seemingly just in reaction to his smile). "I won't tell. I often do myself, when I serve up my own portion from the vegan version I make my husband."

"Oh, did he judst say hubband?" Cadet D'Orso asked the man seated next to her. "I thoud he was a bachelor." 

"I didn't know Admiral Kirk was married either," the man whispered back; he looked half amazed and half disappointed. And though Cadet D'Orso couldn't easily see the faces of her classmates from the back row, she assumed a number of them wore similar expressions. Even though Admiral Kirk was getting up there in years, he definitely ranked high on the list of Starfleet Instructors cadets crushed on pretty hard. 

"Your husband is a vegan, sir?" one of the cadets near the front of the room ventured to ask.

"Aren't most Vulcans?" Kirk asked by way of reply, looking puzzled. 

An excited buzz went through the room. 

The Admiral seemed oblivious to the whispers (and the repeated cropping up of the word _Spock_ ) and instead finished writing out the method of his recipe. 

"Anyway, whatever you decide to use to personalize your version of Plomeek Soup, you should serve it with Kreylah, or a similar bread --" Kirk jotted down the names of some bakeries in the area, which apparently could be counted on to supply something comparable to Vulcan Kreylah. 

"Wait, I think he's saying he's married to Captain Spock," Mariette's row-mate whispered in shock. "Spock and Kirk -- so all those silly rumors you hear about are actually true?"

Mariette rolled her eyes at him. "Cadch ub to the rest ob us, why donch you?" 

"Well, considering the great majority of you seem to be suffering through varying manifestations of this cold, I think it's best we wind up for the day," Kirk announced to the murmuring cadets. 

"You're just going to let us go?" one woman asked in amazement. "Um, what about the reading you have to give us?"

"Dismissed," Kirk said genially. "And Cadets? Take tonight off and show up here tomorrow well-rested and ready to work hard."

The hum of conversations rose in volume as everyone stood, gathering PADDs and shoulder bags and other items.

Mariette nodded goodbye as the man seated next to her waved before he departed and took her time getting her things together. Might as well wait a little until the seats and aisles cleared, she reasoned; this cold made her move sluggishly, and she didn't want to get in the way of anyone in a rush. 

So as it happened she was the very last cadet in the room when Captain Spock strode in, making his way directly to Admiral Kirk. 

"I dismissed them early," Kirk said to him by way of greeting.

Spock tilted his head to the side. "Obviously. But I did not realize you had begun to instruct topics related to interplanetary cookery." He gazed up at the recipe still on the viewer. 

"Well, they all have colds today, so. Soup's the best thing for it. And you know that's one of my favorites when I'm ill." The Admiral smiled fondly at his husband. 

"I shall make a batch of Plomeek Soup for you to have tonight," Spock declared.

"Spock, that's very nice of you to offer, but _I'm_ not the one with the cold."

"You could well have an incipient rhinovirus at this juncture, given that the population you interact with frequently has displayed overt symptoms."

"Hello, _dot_ condagious adybore," Mariette muttered to herself. But she supposed the Captain was right: other cadets (not her, of course) might still come to their classes even if their cold was infectious. 

"Spock, whatever we already have planned for dinner will be just fine," the Admiral argued in exasperation. 

They both seemed to have forgotten there might be anyone else there. Mariette tried not to make any unnecessary noises. It wasn't that she wanted to eavesdrop, but she felt strange being an unacknowledged party to their affectionate bickering.

"A change of plans is not inconvenient in this case," Spock answered.

"Oh, come on. I don't want you to put yourself out just because you've got it in your head that --"

"Jim," Captain Spock said simply.

The Admiral sighed and cast his eyes down, smiling. "You always get your way, don't you?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "When it comes to matters concerning your well-being, I think it best, don't you?"

It was only because Mariette was up at the very back of the room that she caught a glimpse of their hands reaching out to each other behind Kirk's podium, and the slow teasing brush of their fingertips. 

"Besides, your version of Plomeek Soup continues to be too spicy," Spock went on as he and the Admiral made their way to the exit. "Mine is more advantageous to the promotion of good health." Though Captain Spock often appeared quite severe, he looked almost indulgent now as he rested his gaze on Admiral Kirk.

"Just because my Vulcan husband likes things mild," Jim replied, with a playful smile.

"Not always," Spock intoned seriously.

"Yeah, not always," the Admiral said with a wide grin. Their fingertips brushed together once more, the barest lingering touch, as they left the room. 

Alone in the last row of seats, Cadet D'Orso raised her PADD to cover her face again, this time to cover her embarrassed smile and blush.


End file.
